


Armageddon Game Saved

by vocal_fries



Series: Subtext Becomes Text [7]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, DS9 S2E13 “Armageddon Game”, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 10:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15928136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vocal_fries/pseuds/vocal_fries
Summary: Garak mourns for his lost love. Julian returns from the dead. Emotions are running high after the events of S2E13 “Armageddon Game,” and these two discover new depths.





	Armageddon Game Saved

**Author's Note:**

> Full credit to the writers of DS9 S2E13 “Armageddon Game” for Bashir and O’Brien’s dialogue.
> 
> Bashir is always in his feelings, and now Garak is, too. Jeez. There’s some very consensual rough sex in here, so heads up.

Elim Garak silently closed down his shop, Garak’s Clothiers, five hours earlier than usual. He walked woodenly to his quarters, his usually sharp blue eyes glassy and unseeing. The doors whispered shut behind him, and he stared at nothing for a long moment. His limbs felt like they were filled with ice. Or glass. When he finally tried to move, he felt lightheaded. On unsteady legs, he walked to his bedroom and lay on the bed, curling around a pillow.

_ Julian. _

Julian Bashir was dead. He had died earlier that day at the conclusion of a mission destroying biological weapons left over from the T’Lani-Kellerun war. Garak had overheard whispers about Keiko O’Brien receiving a visit from Commander Sisko regarding Chief O’Brien, and a quick hack into the station’s systems had revealed what Sisko had told her: that Miles and Julian had been killed in an accident just before they were scheduled to beam away.

A part of Garak’s mind refused to believe it had been an accident, but he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around planning a covert investigation. He felt as if someone had switched him off, and only inertia kept him moving.  _ Later. Julian deserves an investigation. Justice. Maybe vengeance. But later. _

As Garak wrapped himself around the pillow in his arms, he felt grief burn inside his veins like blistering hot sand. The pain of losing Julian made him want to crawl out of his skin. He squirmed uncomfortably, struggling to withstand the physical anguish wrought by the immensity of the loss. His chest tightened until he could hardly breathe.

_ Julian. _

He knew something had gone wrong with the device inside his head. Under this kind of duress, he should be flooded with endorphins, but he felt the pain so exquisitely he feared the implant had ceased functioning altogether. He had left it running for so long he wondered if he had become immune to its effects. He would try to fix it, but he felt hesitant. There was something just about this agony. Julian was dead, and someone needed to feel like this.  _ I need to feel like this. _

When he closed his eyes, he saw Julian’s face. Sparkling hazel eyes. That dreamy, affectionate smile. The luminous way he laughed. The breathtaking flush of his skin at orgasm. Garak’s throat clenched.

_ Julian. _

When the tears began, he made no attempt to stop them. He had suppressed and minimized his feelings for Julian Bashir for a long time, and he no doubt would do so again the second he stepped back out of his quarters. But in this solitary moment, Garak sank fully into the final, painful intimacy of mourning intensely for someone he had cared for so deeply. Sobs wracked his body as he grieved the love he had lost and the life Julian would never live.

_ Julian. My dear. I loved you. I love you. _

________

“Women. That's all you ever think about,” Miles O’Brien scoffed at Julian Bashir.

Bashir smiled, more to himself than to the chief.  _ Of course he doesn’t know about Garak, but Rennan isn’t even a secret, _ he thought, the image of his Betazoid lover coming to mind. He decided against arguing the point. “No, it isn't,” he disagreed lightly. “Though I do think about them a lot.”

O’Brien rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, one of these days you'll fall in love with one.”

  
Bashir felt a twinge of tension in his chest. He shook it away.  _ I’m not in love with Garak, _ he told himself sternly. “I did once.”

  
“Not work out?”

Julian became pensive. “Not quite. Close. I don't know.” Sometimes he missed Palis. Their love had been passionate and uncomplicated.  _ She _ had been passionate and uncomplicated. But as he grew older, he had come to recognize that she had fit into his life in a specific place and time. His context was different, and he was different. They’d be strangers now. He loved what they’d had, and he felt very fond of her, but he didn’t want the life they would have shared.

_ Maybe I never did, even then. _

As he argued with Miles, Bashir’s thoughts drifted back to Garak. Since their agreement a few months ago to continue their arrangement, things had gone back to normal. Or, at least, their normal. They ate lunch together at least once a week, discussing and debating the merits of their shared readings. They met in Julian’s quarters for sex a couple times a week. Garak never stayed the night, but he seemed more present than he had before their break. Julian felt Garak was hiding less from him, but then, it was hard to tell.

And Bashir continued to see other people. Melora Pazlar had requested a transfer around the time that Julian’s relationship with her had fizzled. Though he sometimes missed her — her cleverness, not to mention her astounding dual-headed clitoris — they had begun to run out of things to talk about. Julian still regularly saw Rennan Grax, the gorgeous Betazoid chocolatier who worked on the Promenade. Rennan was fun, and they had incredible sexual chemistry. They would never discuss books, but there was no version of Julian Bashir that would say no to a date of tennis, vigorous sex, and being fed new recipes of artisanal chocolates.

Besides Rennan, he’d recently begun sleeping with a wealthy Bajoran merchant who visited the station a couple times a month. Deeti Aisha was 13 years older than him, absolutely straightforward, and incredibly demanding. Their standard date involved a holosuite couples massage followed by at least an hour of simultaneous oral sex, dinner and dessert on the Promenade, and a quick, hard fuck in the captain’s quarters of her ship. The captain, her husband, seemed to enjoy the cuckolding as much as Aisha did, and he would stroke himself breathlessly as Julian fucked Aisha in front of him.

But for all the fun Bashir was having, some nagging corner of his mind knew Garak was more important to him than any of the others. Their relationship felt like, well, a relationship. A weird one, but a cherished one, and one to which he felt very committed. The rest of his mind — the more rational portion, certainly — knew that neither he nor Garak was in a place to be in a committed relationship.

_ I’m not in love, _ he reminded himself.

Julian focused on Miles again and realized his friend was not doing well. “Don't leave me, Chief. I still need you.”

O'Brien was covered in a sheen of sweat. He grunted. “Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere. So who was she?”

“Who?” Bashir was caught off guard.

O'Brien mimicked Julian’s clipped accent. “‘Not quite. Close.’”

Bashir smiled, a little sad. “Palis. Palis Delon. She was a dancer, a ballerina.” He smiled again. “She had the most exquisite feet.” Catching Miles’ skepticism, he laughed. “I'm serious. It's very important for a dancer to have good arches. She was gorgeous, not to mention brilliant. I used to watch her on stage. I couldn't believe how anyone could be so graceful.” Despite himself, he felt a little wistful.  _ Nostalgic, maybe. _

“And she was crazy about you?”

“We were crazy about each other. I used to think, ‘Julian, you lucky devil. You've found the perfect woman.’ We used to finish each other's thoughts.”  _ And what different thoughts they were back then. _ He paused to focus on the task at hand. “There,” he said, gesturing to the chief to check his work.

O’Brien spent several minutes examining Julian’s work, then continued probing about Palis. “So what happened with you and Palis?”

“What happened is I graduated. Her father was the top administrator at a medical complex in Paris. He offered me a job, promised I'd be Chief of Surgery within five years.”

Miles understood. “But you would have to give up your Starfleet career.”

Bashir smiled wanly. “I can't tell you how close I came. But, here I am.”

“You made your choice.”

“Yeah. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and I think to myself, ‘Will I ever find anyone that wonderful again?’” He pushed the thought away. Sometimes he thought he had. Maybe.

________

Garak had rigged a cheap fix on the device in his brain, and endorphins poured through him day and night. The unique mix of staggering loss and feel-good neurotransmitters left him in a strange state, unrecognizable by any standard gauge of emotions. He felt empty, giddy, blank.

He went through the motions of running the shop. He made himself eat at least once a day. When he returned to his quarters at night, he stripped naked, got into bed, and fell asleep with his face buried in one of Julian’s shirts left in the shop for repairs a few days before he departed on the Harvesters mission. He suspected it was beginning to smell more like himself than like Julian, but he could still detect faint traces of warm skin, salty sweat, and something uniquely Julian.

He dreamt of him often. In Garak’s dreams, Julian was always alive. He was warm and Garak could touch him. In dreams, Julian argued and flirted and laughed. He kissed Garak softly and shared himself eagerly. When Garak awoke, the pain flooded back for just a moment before the device kicked in. He tried to stay asleep. Asleep, he hadn’t lost anyone. Asleep, he didn’t have to choose between pain and emptiness.

He always awoke. It started anew every day.  
  


________

Bashir had only been in his quarters for half an hour when he heard the door chime.

“Just a moment,” he called, tying his bathrobe. He’d forgone the standard sonic shower and taken a rare water shower instead. He reasoned that returning from the dead was as good an occasion as any. “Enter.”

The door whispered open, and he saw Garak standing in the doorway. His face looked tense, but it relaxed visibly when his eyes fixed on Bashir.

“Julian,” he said, his voice unusually soft.

“Garak!” Bashir called, pleased to see the man. “Come in. Can I get you anything?”

Garak looked at him strangely as he walked into the room, moving slowly. “No, thank you.” He paused. “It’s good to see you, my dear. I’m quite relieved to find you alive and well. You  _ are _ well, yes?”

Bashir touched his hands to his torso, as if checking. “Well enough. I suppose we gave everyone quite a scare. Will you sit?” He gestured to the couch.

“Thank you.” Garak sat, and Bashir perched next to him. To his surprise, Garak took his hands. “My dear,” he began hesitantly, but went no further.

Julian could feel the nervous tension in Garak’s hands, and his heart melted. He pressed a kiss to the back of each hand and looked into Garak’s eyes. The usually guarded blue eyes looked almost exposed. An expression like relief and pain mingled there. Bashir smiled, gently squeezing Garak’s hands. “Can I get you a drink?” he asked again, trying to put the older man at ease.

“No, thank you, Julian,” Garak replied, managing a polite nod. He opened his mouth as if to speak again, stopped.

Bashir felt his heart clench.  _ He’s been worried. _ He met Garak’s eyes and smiled warmly into them. He kissed one of Garak’s hands again. “I know this is a bit irregular, but um, would you like to just cuddle for a few minutes?”

“Cuddle?” Garak repeated, as if unfamiliar with the word.

“Yes. Cuddle. Sit or lie together in a great deal of bodily contact. Surely the word translates?”

Garak offered half a smile.  _ Does Garak look sheepish? No. Maybe?  _ “It does. And yes, I believe I would.”

Julian grinned. He looped the knee closer to Garak over the older man’s thigh. Garak lifted his arm to welcome Julian under it as the human slid his own arm behind the older man’s back. As Julian leaned into Garak’s solid chest, he felt a rush of warmth out of all proportion to Garak’s body temperature. He laced his fingers through the Cardassian’s opposite hand, idly stroking the soft scales between the cool gray fingers. He sighed, nestling against the firm body holding him.

Garak rested his cheek against the top of Julian’s head, breathing deeply.

“Are you smelling my hair?” Bashir teased lightly.

He felt Garak’s cheek flex when the man grinned. “Yes.”

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes. Despite his exhaustion, Bashir felt his heart beat a little faster at Garak’s warm embrace and the gentle touch of the man’s hand stroking his arm. Julian wondered at Garak’s quiet affection.  _ He really thought I was dead,  _ he realized. He hadn’t known he and Miles had been assumed dead until they’d reestablished contact with Starfleet. The idea that Garak had been mourning for him made him feel immensely sad.

Bashir wrapped his arms more tightly around the older man, nuzzling the sloping juncture of Garak’s chest and shoulder. “If our situations were reversed, I’d be a fucking wreck.” He felt Garak’s body tense slightly, and Julian kissed the shoulder beneath his cheek. “But I’m here. And I’m okay. And I’m glad you’re here with me.”

Garak squeezed Julian’s shoulder. Lips pressed against Bashir’s hair. Julian felt Garak’s muscles drain of tension. “It’s extremely gratifying to feel you here next to me, alive and unharmed,” he said quietly.

Bashir’s heart melted all over again. It was little more than a polite statement from anyone but Garak, but the weight of his honesty hung heavy in the air. The simple sentiment was so uncharacteristically effusive that Julian felt utterly caught off guard.

Rather than piece together his scattered thoughts into a verbal response, he pressed his face more firmly against Garak’s chest and shoulder. Gentle fingers caressed his shoulders. The exhaustion of the past several days overwhelmed him, and he drifted into sleep, warm in Garak’s arms.

When he awoke, Bashir felt as if he had been asleep for hours. Disoriented, he needed a moment to get his bearings. He was on his couch, wearing a bathrobe, cuddled up against Garak.

_ Garak? Cuddling? How long was I asleep? _

He tilted his head to look at Garak’s face. “How long was I asleep?” he asked, eyes still bleary.

Garak looked down at him, eyes gentle. “A few hours. I fear I dozed nearly as long as you did.”

Julian realized his bathrobe had ridden up indecently high on his thighs. “Are you sure you weren’t awake the whole time, slowly moving my hemline?” he teased, raising his head slightly to plant a playful kiss on Garak’s jaw.

Garak scoffed. “I’m sure I’d simply ask if it were my goal to ogle you, my dear, but I can’t say the view pains me at all.”

Bashir felt warmth building between his legs. He began to caress his inner thighs with one hand, suggestive. “Why, thank you,” he purred. “I do like to be ogled.”

He slipped his hand beneath the robe, and he heard Garak’s breath catch. He lazily squeezed his cock a few times, then brushed one side of the robe out of the way. They watched as his cock thickened and lengthened into a hard, velvet-smooth erection, his fingers playing lightly along the length.

Bashir tilted his face toward Garak again. “Please,” he whispered, placing Garak’s hand on his erection as their lips met. Cool fingers gripped his shaft gently, and he gasped at the touch. Garak’s thumb traced light circles around the head of Julian’s cock, and the young man closed his eyes at the exquisite intensity of the sensation. When he opened them again, Garak was gazing at him, his own bright blue eyes unusually soft.

Julian’s stomach fluttered. He didn’t know what to make of Garak’s expression. Instead of trying to figure it out, he reached between Garak’s legs and stroked his ajan through his pants. Garak groaned, and Julian looked at him in surprise.  _ He’s being so vulnerable. _

Encouraged, Julian pressed his hand harder between the older man’s legs. “Take off your clothes,” he whispered, looking deep into Garak’s eyes. Disentangling their limbs, Julian stood and removed his robe.

When he looked back down, Bashir saw Garak gazing up at him. Cool gray hands gently guided the human forward until he was standing between Garak’s knees. The Cardassian leaned forward, eyes inquiring.

“Yes,” Julian breathed, and he shuddered when he felt Garak’s mouth engulf his hard cock. He felt himself pulled forward until he had to kneel on the sofa, straddling Garak’s hips.

With his legs spread, Bashir could only gasp and whimper as Garak massaged his thighs, caressed his balls, and cupped his ass, pulling him more firmly into the mouth sucking hungrily at his cock.

Julian held Garak’s shoulders for balance, massaging Garak’s favorite scales. As the skilled lips and tongue of his Cardassian lover continued their ministrations, Julian began to moan, thrusting his hips. Lightly, at first, and then harder. He felt Garak’s throat open for him, and he thrust more deeply. Phosphenes danced behind his tightly closed eyes as Garak hummed around his cock.

When Bashir looked down, he saw Garak looking up at him. He held the older man’s gaze as Garak slowly leaned his head back against the back of the sofa. Julian understood, staying with him. Garak’s mouth tightened deliciously around Julian’s erection one more time, then went slack.

Julian placed one hand on the back of the couch and wrapped the fingers of the other in Garak’s hair. He began thrusting harder, watching Garak’s face closely. Lidded blue eyes gazed steadily up at him. Encouraged, Bashir began to thrust forcefully, picking up speed. When he felt the vibrations of Garak’s throat around his cock, he cried out.

Julian began to fuck Garak’s face with abandon, holding his head in place by his now-messy hair. He knew he didn’t need to hold Garak; the man wasn’t going anywhere. Garak moaned around Julian’s cock, tightening his throat around the head every time it plunged deep inside. Bashir’s hips snapped as he fucked the whole length of his cock into Garak’s throat.

Julian looked down, panting hard, and cried out again at the tableau before him. Garak’s usually perfect hair was tangled, Julian’s fist grasping a handful of it. His blue eyes were red and watering, tears streaming down his face. His mouth was wide and inviting, and saliva ran from the corners. Holding Garak’s gaze, Julian gave a few more hard thrusts, then held himself deep inside Garak’s throat while orgasm racked his body. He cried out, wordless and exultant.

When he tried to slump down, Bashir felt Garak hold him up. A gentle mouth delicately sucked the last dregs of semen from his cock and licked him clean as he softened. He whimpered under the tender attention and continued massaging Garak’s shoulder ridges.

Finally, apparently satisfied with his work, Garak lowered the limp human until he was seated, still straddling Garak’s lap. Julian smiled and kissed Garak deeply.

When Julian pulled back, he giggled. “Holy shit,” Bashir breathed.

“Mm,” Garak agreed amiably, voice harsh.

Julian leaned over, retrieved his bathrobe, and carefully wiped the streaks of saliva and semen on Garak’s face and neck. He tossed the bathrobe aside, then leaned in again, kissing Garak and caressing the scales on either side of his neck.

“I want to make you come, too,” Bashir murmured against Garak’s mouth. He reached down between them and pressed a hand to Garak’s trousers. His breath caught when he felt the outline of the older man’s prUt. “Mmm, you everted while you were sucking my cock? Fuck, that’s hot.”

“No, Julian,” Garak said very softly. “I everted when you were fucking my face.”

The statement made him lightheaded. Julian moaned, kissing Garak harder, pinching the man’s favorite neck scales. “Did you like feeling me fuck your mouth? Did it turn you on to feel me fucking your tight throat?”

“Yes,” Garak hissed, strong hands caressing Bashir’s hips and thighs.

“You got so turned on you everted in your pants. Without me even touching you.  _ You _ weren’t even touching you.” He grinned wickedly, pulling away from their kiss just enough to look into blue eyes. “Did you like being used, Garak?” he teased, enjoying the increasingly bruising strength of Garak’s hands squeezing his hips as he whispered filthy things against the Cardassian’s lips. He unfastened Garak’s pants, roughly pulling his prUt out.

“Yes,” Garak hissed again, losing the syllable to harsh sibilance. He kissed Julian hard as the human began stroking his prUt, his tight grip a shade shy of painful.

“You’ve ruined your clothes getting so wet for me,” Bashir taunted, stroking fast. “I’ve rarely felt you get so wet for me.” Garak moaned quietly, and Julian continued, encouraged. “You looked so good with my cock in your mouth. So perfect with tears and drool rolling down your face while I fucked the back of your throat.” Garak’s breathing became ragged. “Did you like feeling my fist in your hair? Your beautiful hair, tangled around my fingers while I fucked your gorgeous mouth.” He panted against Garak’s lips, moving his fist faster over Garak’s prUt. “Tomorrow when you try to talk, you’ll feel the ache from my cock battering your throat. I bet you’ll get wet then, too, won’t you?” Garak groaned. Julian leaned back slightly so he could see Garak’s face. He smirked. “Look at you. Maybe I should have started fucking you sooner.”

Garak came then, abruptly and loudly. Julian kissed him deeply, stroking him through the waves of his orgasm. When Garak stilled, Bashir broke the kiss and sat back on Garak’s legs, smiling into his lidded blue eyes. Bashir licked the slightly acidic, blueish semen from his fingers.

Garak smiled as if dazed, then leaned forward and kissed Julian, unhurried. The kiss deepened and they leaned back against the sofa. Julian tasted himself in Garak’s mouth and knew Garak could taste his own seed mingling on their tongues. The kiss went on for a long time, as if reacquainting themselves with one another.

When Julian finally broke the kiss, he was breathless.  _ I feel like my heart might burst from my rib cage. _ He stroked Garak’s hair, at a loss for words beyond the necessarily unspoken declaration of love crowding his throat.

Garak lifted the human with startling ease, settling Julian on the sofa next to him. Garak encircled the young man’s shoulders with his arm, leaned his head against Julian’s, and murmured quietly, “Welcome home, my dear.”


End file.
